Saints and Soldiers

(Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they belongs to someone else. This is dedicated to My.Psuedonym.Was.Taken.)

Chapter 2 - The Shed

Shortly they came upon an overturned ambulance. The occupants had been pulled from the vehicle and executed in the snow. When Deacon saw them he pulled off his helmet and went to his knees. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A medic, the driver and three injured soldiers lay dead in a snow drift, their heads cruelly blow open. The ambulance had been heading to the hospital in St. Vith.

"I don't see any weapons," Kendrick said

"An ambulance," Gunderson snarled. "They mowed down a damn ambulance."

Gould, who was running short of supplies, rummaged through the overturned vehicle. Gunderson went over to Deacon. The look of shock on his face concerned him. Deacon's mental health was already frail and he feared this could push him over the top. But regardless of what had happened to him, Gunderson knew he was a good soldier that he could depend on, but he also knew he needed to get him away from this for now.

"Deac," he said as he patted his shoulder. "Why don't you head up the hill and keep watch. I'm gonna see if we can find some stuff we can use, and then we'll get out of here. All right?"

Deacon nodded a yes as he replaced his helmet and stood up.. His eye caught Gould pulling money out of a dead soldier's wallet and stuffing it into his own pocket.

"I hate robbing the dead," Kendrick grumbled.

"They've already been robbed," Gunderson answered him. "Just grab whatever we can use." He, too, began to search the pockets of the soldiers.

Watching Gould as he took the watch off a dead soldiers' wrist and put it on his own Deacon's eyes narrowed. Gould noticed Deacon looking at him the angrily but brushed him off with a calloused look and rolled his eyes. Gunderson, noticing Deacon's reaction, picked up a wool coat from the ground and handed it to Deacon.

"Deac, put this on." He got no response. "Put it on! NOW!" he shoved the coat at him. He had to break the tension between these two men. "Deacon, I need you at the road checking stuff out," he told him again getting no response. "Go on! Get!" he ordered, shoving him hard.

Deacon looked at Gunderson surprised but then nodded. Gundy was his friend and he trusted him. Walking away towards the road he pulled on the heavy coat.

As he walked down a road Deacon, rifle in hand, heard the mysterious whispering again. He spun trying to locate the direction it was coming from. Glancing over by the side of the road he saw the crumpled remains of a child's doll laying in the snow. It looked like the one he had seen at the church when he … when he … he closed his eyes hoping, praying that it really wasn't there. Squeezing them tight he shook his head trying to clear it and steadied himself. If the doll was still there he was going back to get Gunderson to try and find who was playing this cruel trick on him. Opening them again he looked. Where the doll had laid there was nothing. He searched the forest for any signs of movement but there was nothing.

Back at the ambulance Gould found compression bandages tossed haphazardly in the snow. He gathered all that he could and stuffed them into his medic bag. Gunderson found a map and a compass.

"How long has Deac been gone?" he asked Gould.

Gould looked at his confiscated watch. "Almost an hour."

"That's a nice watch, Gould," Kendrick spoke almost mockingly. "You gonna take my personals if I catch a bullet?"

"He's not going to miss it, trust me," Gould replied acidly. "And you don't have anything I want, except maybe your flashlight."

Kendrick chuckled slightly. "Hey Sarge, what's the deal with Deacon? He seems a little … jumpy."

"Deacon's fine. He's just a little on edge," he answered dismissively. He knew they had no idea what Deacon had been through and it wasn't the time or place to discuss it.

"He seems a nice enough fella and all, it's just …"

"He's shell-shocked," Gould diagnosed. "I've seen it a million times."

"Yeah, well don't worry about it," Gunderson told.

"Yeah, well, it's just a little frightening. We only have one weapon and he's holding it."

"Yeah, we do have one weapon," Gunderson looked at him. Now he was getting angry. "How did we get that weapon, Gould?" Gould looked down wishing now that he'd not brought the subject up. "Deacon saved my ass more times than I care to think about. He's fine."

Deacon trotted up to them with a small smile on his face. "What'd ya find, Deac?" Gunderson asked him.

Shortly they were pulling open the door of an old wooden storage shed. Deacon walked in first, weapon drawn.

"Home, sweet home," Kendrick joked.

"This'll be fine for us to hold up in for a few days," Gunderson looked around. "Let's see if we can get a fire going. Gould, you got any matches?"

"No," he answered him. "But I found a latrine." He picked up a metal bucket and set it on an old chest.

"Like I said, 'Home sweet home'," Kendrickchuckled.

"Deacon, I want you on first watch," Gunderson told him. Deacon again nodded and left as Kendrick pulled the door closed behind him.

The floor consisted of rotted and burned wooden slats. Gould stepped down as the floor seemed to give way under his weight and then quickly jumped back. Reaching down he pulled on some loose boards to reveal what looked like a big hole under it.

"Great," he said sarcastically. "This thing is really safe."

Deacon found a place by an old burned out farmhouse to watch the road. From his vantage point he could see and hear anything or any vehicles while not being seen himself. It was freezing cold as the wind swirled around him. Pulling the coat collar up around his neck he sat there trying to fight another enemy; exhaustion.

His head nodded ever so slightly as his body tried to doze when he heard a whisper. Immediately he was alert. Slowly and cautiously he peered over the edge of the embankment, rifle ready. In the woods he saw the faint figure of a woman standing looking at him. Raising his rifle he prepared to fire when the figure vanished. Blinking he scanned the woods but saw nothing. Sitting back down he didn't move. Was the figure actually there or just his imagination?

Back in the shed the three remaining soldiers began talking.

"Gunderson," Gould asked as he guarded the door. "What's with you and Deacon? You cousins? Separated at birth?"

"Deacon's the squarest guy I know. He's from some backwards town in Arizona. Doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't cuss. He's a preacher's kid that was raised in a church. That's why they call him The Deacon. Back home some of the neighborhood kids knew a good church going boy like him. They teased him unmercifully, laughed their butts off." Gunderson took another deep breath. "Tell you something else about Deacon. He's the best shot I've ever seen."

Gould shook his head satisfied at the reply.

"Where you from, Sarge?" Kendrick asked.

"Chicago, south side. How 'bout you?"

"Louisiana. Small town. Really small."

"How 'bout you, Gould?" Gunderson asked him. "Where you from?"

"New York."

"What part of New York?"

"Brooklyn … Heights," Gould said the words separately saying the last part as though it made a bad taste in his mouth.

"I like Brooklyn. Good jazz clubs," Gunderson smiled slightly.

"Yeah," Gould looked at him. "But if you want good jazz you gotta go to the Village."

"You want great jazz you go to New Orleans," Kendrick interjected.

Both men nodded in agreement and chuckled slightly.

Deacon had taken the picture out of his Bible and was looking at it. His lovely wife smiled back at him from it and he shed a tear. Slipping the picture back into the Bible he slipped into the coat pocket that was closest to his heart. How he longed to be with her, to talk with her, to hear her voice, smell her perfume. She was the love of his life. The more he thought of her the more he cried. He hated where he was and felt so very alone.

Getting to his knees he folded his hands and began to pray.

"Father in heaven, forgive me for the things I've done. I just need--"

He was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Peering over the edge of the snow he didn't like what he saw. Sucking air between his teeth he grabbed the rifle and made a hasty retreat for the shed.

Kendrick was showing Gould a card trick.

"Stop," Gould said.

Kendrick lifted half of the deck up for him to see. "This is your card." He showed Gould an ace of diamonds.

"That's a pretty good trick, Kendrick," he snickered.

Deacon burst into the shed. "Got a jeep comin'!" he announced.

The men jumped to their feet on the edge of panic. Kendrick's cards slipped from his hand as he tried to gather them and stuff them into his pocket.

Gunderson pulled the door almost closed hearing the jeep approach. "Keep going, keep going," he said over and over, hoping. "Keep … they're stopping."

Deacon checked his rifle readying to fire if necessary. Gould thought of the floor.

"Gunderson!" he said frantically as he lifted some of the loose boards revealing the hole underneath it.

The jeep drove up with the Germans talking loudly to each other. One would have thought they were on a Sunday drive. Sliding to a stop in front of the shed one German picked up a lantern and lit it. Opening the shed door he held the lantern high so he could see inside the shed.

"Hallo! Jemand zu Hause?" he asked laughing and the others laughed with him.